


To Run

by tony stork (empresswrit)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, bruce is really dark in this guys, logan is the one using drugs to numb the pain of his healing factor, this is super dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8114524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empresswrit/pseuds/tony%20stork
Summary: When a mild-mannered scientist needs the help of a mutant with a knack for controlling his inner demons, the two form an unlikely friendship that blossoms into something else.





	1. The Boy

**Author's Note:**

> There's a fanmix I made that goes with this OTP!  
> http://8tracks.com/brucie-boo/no-light-a-gammaclaw-mix  
> I'll probably do one based on this fic alone--- I'll think about it.
> 
> Shoutout: this OTP wouldn't have come up without my brotato, Abby. She means a lot to me.
> 
> Gammaclaw started out as total best friends until I mentioned in a joking manner, "I ship it lol," and after that, this ship soon evolved into my favorite OTP of all time.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy--- this is my way of cataloguing the story we have roleplayed over the course of two years.
> 
> Whenever there are sexual scenes, I'll post them in their own chapter so you can skip if you'd prefer.

The boy, Logan thinks, smells too much like alcohol and too little like a boy. He's wearing blue: the child has a hoodie pulled over a denim shirt and jeans. Brown eyes are hidden behind silver spectacles... and hm, was one of the lenses... broken? His hair is extremely curly, and his worn sneakers make Logan curious. Taking a whiff, Logan can pick up on the crisp and dirty aroma of denim that hasn't been washed in weeks.

Hm. The boy has also been running around in the mud too much. And why, of all things, does he talk to himself and laugh about Hulk? What in the fuck was a Hulk?

Logan peers at him from behind a few well-placed trees; his clothes are shredded and he's ready to pounce and get the kid away from his territory. He doesn't know much about talking like he used to--- something he'll alleviate in a few years, but not now. Now he wants to roam like an animal and howl at the moon.

The boy walks forward and stumbles on a fallen log. Logan tenses, blue eyes staring at him.

The child is on his pack's land. His pack owns this land. Why is he---

A loud whimper rips him from his questioning thoughts. The child has recoiled back from an injured animal. Upon further inspection, Logan sees that it is one of the younger pups who is injured. Damn hunters, leaving traps in poor locations.

Logan almost moves out to free the pup, but the young boy has instead decided to take up the job.

"Oh, puppy," the child murmurs, crouching down on one knee, "It'll be okay! I'll make sure you're okay."

The young boy pulls out a small piece of fabric from his jacket; when the boy gets up from his plight, Logan will see the child had used his own shirt to help the little wolf pup... but he can't see that now, not from view point.

"I'm Bruce," he says, patting the pup's head, "And I don't like seeing people get hurt. I hate that so much. Especially a puppy."

A slight growl tears Bruce from his work: it had come from an alpha female who stands perched by the child... it is only five feet away from him. Instead of being afraid, Bruce moves quicker than before. There's no water to clean the wound, but he can free the puppy and wrap it up.

He tenses when the first try to release the animal is unsuccessful. 

"I can do this. Hulk I can do this!"

When the second time comes around and he's freed the wolf pup from it, the tiny animal gives him a lick before it sits before him. The wolf pup rubs itself on Bruce's arm before it licks down at the wound.

Bruce runs his fingers through the pup's fur and says, "I'll patch you up in no time! I want to be a doctor to help people, and you're included! I'll do it one day, promise."

He wraps the fabric around the pup's leg and moves to stand. Bruce disables the trap so no other animal will get hurt by it, and Logan almost makes his presence known by leaning out from behind the trees. A mere child had helped his pack--- and to what did he owe? 

Nothing.

Logan Howlett didn't owe this child a thing.

Bruce hears a loud sound and stumbles, tumbling face first into a pile of leaves. It's fall, and the air smells of cinnamon and pumpkin--- if Logan focuses too much on the memories, they'll crush him, and he can't have that. He's the animal. Animals don't have memories.

They survive.

The pup comes forward and licks Bruce's face, and the child gives the most joyful and heartfelt giggle that Logan had ever heard in his long and endless years. 

It warms that cold place in his chest... that place he had told himself he would never again believe---

The alpha female no longer growls. She headbutts Bruce after a beat as a means of thanks before snatching up the pup by the back of his neck. He's a member of the pack because he helped a member in their time of need. The wolves would never forget him. Not ever.

"Be safe," Bruce tells the wolves, getting back up so he can head back, "And watch out for each other. Make sure everyone is accounted for."

Logan watches as the boy leaves, head tilted down, silver spectacles shining in the ever-fading light of the day. There's an aged feeling to him: It's almost like he's carrying the weight of the world on such young shoulders. This smell of cinnamon clings to the child, and if his sense of smell hadn't been so keen, Logan would have blamed the season for the scent.

But no, the boy smells like dirt and neglect and cinnamon--- and Logan knows he won't be able to forget the boy or the smell. He won't ever be able to forget what the boy had done, either.

He had come out to the woods to find himself again after being treated like an animal... and a weapon... only to find kindness personified along the path.

It would be years before he would cross paths with the individual again. 

And oh, how Logan's life would change.


	2. The Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dammit, Charles!

Xavier had always been so kind to him. He'd been understanding when Logan wanted to run. He'd been sincere when Logan wanted to doubt.

Logan had to hand it to the kind ol' coot--- he was a good man, and nothing was ever going to change Logan's mind on the matter.

Looking out on one of the balconies overlooking the massive property, Logan gives a happy sound. There's no dopey white haired girl who controls weather to boss him around, and there's no fur ball to bug him. Not yet, anyway. This place always becomes so busy--- but now… Now he has some peace to himself.

That is, until he gets a call from Xavier that he needs assistance.

* * *

When Logan enters the office, a thousand warning bells go off.

The neglect smell still clings to him, but how it screams--- Bruce hides himself away and neglects himself. It's on his skin. It's everywhere. When Bruce takes a breath to when he just stands there... the neglect shows. The man is no longer a child, and he stands at the window like he's been directed to look out of it. When he hears the click of Logan's boots on the linoleum, he turns to face the other. His gaze snaps to the floor after he sees who it is, and yet, those eyes drift back to up Logan's face.

Hm. The cinnamon smell is still there...and it's a pleasantly addictive aroma; Logan finds himself drawing nearer to the man until the sudden strong scent of antiseptic assaults his nostrils. Memories barrage him and he finds himself grimacing in response to it. Still, why is the man so kind in the face? So kind but so nervous?

Blue eyes rake along the other's features: he can see where the age has defined certain aspects of the boy's face, and he can see where age has let him alone. Hm. He still carries himself like he’s still so wise. So achingly wise.

He wonders why he can remember this boy so clearly, Bruce--- hm. Was it the act? The demeanor?

Logan's memory is the sharpest memory in the world; he hides it, yeah, but it's eidetic. It doesn't take much for him to remember.

Hazel eyes--- weren't they brown before--- peer from behind silver spectacles. The lenses are no longer cracked. In fact, the frame of the glasses are thicker... and so are the lenses.

Those beautiful hazel eyes--- those ones that look like the green is overtaking the brown---, when he notices he's being watched, snap to the floor.

Hm. He's a real skitterish one, huh?

He still looks down at the ground primarily, like he did as a child: Logan is annoyed by this submissive posture--- "Look at me," Logan whispers in the back of his mind.

He passes the man's nose, pondering for a second on how it looks to have been broken in the past.

Logan pauses: abuse. Bruce was abused, and he can see those same signs that he had been quick to see himself in Banner.

Hm. That explains the submission.

After sucking in air through his nostrils, Logan finds himself staring at Bruce's mouth. It should be an act against whatever deity he doesn't believe in to give a man lips that can pout that much. For a brief second--- and it's extremely brief--- Logan imagines what kissing him might be like.

Kisses from years past assault him, and he goes weak at the knees before he can ground himself again. Twin blue orbs move from Bruce's face to his neck; is the mild-mannered man blushing under Logan's gaze? Fuck, that’s cute.

He spies a collar that has two buttons undone of the four available. Ooh, a little tuft of chest hair. Bruce wears a yellow button up shirt and brown slacks. The mutant can tell the other maintains a nicely-kept omnivore diet, seeing as he's lean but not overly so. Despite knowing this, Logan wants to see what lies beneath the shirt and pants, but he keeps it to himself.

He doesn't even know how Bruce swings. Not yet. He doesn't want to pay the toll when the bridge isn't even accepting travelers.

Eyes skim down finally to see brown penny loafers and white socks. How quaint. A smirk quirks on Logan's lips. That does it for the mutant--- now he's in teasing mode. There's something undeniably cute about the man.

Blue eyes snap back up to Bruce's face before they skim to look at curls. A mess of dark brown curls. Curls he wouldn't mind gripping.

"What do you need?" Logan asks, a brow raising, "Why did you come bother the professor?"

Charles isn't anywhere to be seen--- he must have decided to get "interested" in something else to pass the time.

"I... uh...." Bruce pulls at his collar, a darker shade of red tinting his cheeks. Honestly, how can one man blush so much?

Logan can hear how fast his heart is beating due to the heart monitor he wears. And the strain of it has a unique smell... why is his body being put under so much physical distress?

It's... it's almost... intoxicating.

Within him, Wolverine growls--- he wants to push him to the edge, but Logan can't allow that. For the love of beer, he can't allow Wolverine to take over him. The urges... no...

Bruce sucks in a shuddering breath as Logan takes another step closer.

Logan knows he's cheating and using his mutation against the other--- he knows how dominant his presence can be. He won't let the beast out but he can be the Alpha in the room.

It's all in good fun, isn't it? Isn't that what dominance is about?

"I play chess with him from time to time. I wasn't bothering him. Not at all. If you'll excuse me, I should probably head home, seeing as he's not here."

Hm. He's nervous. That's kind of cute. This man is too cute.

When Bruce turns to head out the door, an English voice stops him from the doorway.

Charles rolls in and offers Bruce a smile, "I see you've met Logan, Doctor Banner. Though your thoughts are distressing. Would you like to talk?"

Doctor Banner--- Bruce--- shakes his head.

Xavier gives a small smile and waves his hands in the direction of the two plush red chairs in his office, "Sit, please, both of you."

The doctor gives a shaky, "Yes," whereas Logan offers a nod. Both sit down almost immediately; they're used to Charles's kind but direct orders. The seating attachment is rather cramped. Their knees press together. Being this close to someone is a little too... vulnerable for Logan's taste, but he can only imagine how hot the other's skin must feel when pressed against another’s, perhaps his own.

"I want Doctor Banner to learn from you, Logan. I think it could greatly assist him. Unless you'd like to tell him, I will, Doctor."

Logan looks over curiously at the nervous man, blue eyes sparkling with an intense mirth. He doesn't respond, not yet. He'll answer Xavier when Bruce is done making his case.

"You can tell him," Bruce fires back almost immediately, and Charles gives a loud laugh, "Alright then. Logan, I contacted Bruce because the Avengers are worried about his alter. Doctor Banner has one personality that can be quite destructive."

Bruce gives a loud snort. Logan stares at him--- hm. Why did he find the sound.... attractive? Oh, no.

 "That's an understatement, professor," the mild-mannered doctor says, leaning forward, "The Hulk is extremely destructive. He's a battering ram."

Charles offers a smile once again, "Do you mind me showing you, Logan?"

Logan shakes his head. He doesn't mind. He's used to it by now.

Charles broadcasts an image to the both of them.

Bruce flinches and instinctively grabs the edge of his seat as the images flood into his brain. Logan doesn't even move. In fact, as Bruce had moved, his hand had brushed along the side of Logan's thigh. Logan gives a small sound of "move your hand", but the doctor is too preoccupied with flinching.

A beast of monumental size hurls into a wall; cords of thick green muscle flex as they strain--- there's so many bricks he's heaving up at once.

When the beast turns, he gives a roar and smashes his hands to the ground.

Logan comes up out of it and looks at Bruce with a shocked stare, "That thing's you?"

Bruce gives a nod, "Yeah. That's the Hulk. I can't control him. I have to watch my heart rate, or else I--- I change. And I hurt people."

Charles offers, "Since your ability to stave off Wolverine, I want you to help Doctor Banner to accept his own monster. I'm quite certain you will be successful in your endeavor. When you came to respect Wolverine, it became easier to control him, right? I believe he can learn from you."

Logan sighs, blue eyes looking from Bruce to Charles--- there's no way he can deny helping Bruce with Charles near. Even then, he isn't so ready to decline the offer of assisting the other. Not when he's that cute.

"Fine," he huffs out, "you better be on time."

Charles smiles, eyes twinkling in the light, "He will live with us until you deem him ready for the outside world. He'll only be a door away."

Bruce gives a small sigh. He gulps heavily before he moves to stand, "Uh, professor, I have to get a bag together. I'll have Hank help me."

Hm. So he knows the fuzzball.

"Of course. You won't be a student, Bruce. You'll be a resident scientist, and you will help teach students here until you have a stronger grasp on your alter. At nights, you will practice with Logan."

Banner nods; he shoots Logan a look, and there's something in it that makes the mutant's mouth water.

Could he be--- is that... determination?

Bruce steps up and offers his hand to mutant with a polite smile, "We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Doctor Bruce Banner. I look forward to it... uh---"

Logan snatches the hand in his own, brow quirking, smirk coming onto his lips, "Logan. Logan Howlett."

 Banner gives a laugh and a head nod with each signifier, "---Mister Howlett. Charles."

The mild-mannered man slips out of the room, his gait like a staccato melody. Come to think of it, it looks a little like a penguin wobble… but less focused in the waist and more in the knees.

There's Hank's booming laughter in the hallway that alerts the mutant to the fact Beast must have known and had been waiting.

Watching as the door shuts with a gentle click, Logan finds he wants to know more about the individual. If there's anything he can gain from this set up, it's looking at those pouty lips more.

Charles breaks him from his thoughts, "I knew you'd want to help him. He's a kind man, Logan. He only wants the best for others."

"What about that thing he turns into?"

The professor thumbs the stapler on his desk before he murmurs, "Bruce received that from an act of selflessness. A teenager had decided to go onto a nuclear testing site where Bruce worked. When he found out about the boy's presence, he ran out and shoved him into a trench--- only to get the full brunt of the nuclear energy."

Memories of Bruce's assistance as a child supplements the imagery that Charles seems so keen to offer up.

"He turned into the Hulk and has been changing into him ever since. It happens in a variety of ways, but I'm sure you'll want to speak with him about it. Thank you for accepting. I'm sure he will teach you some things in return. Alright, you're good to go."

Logan nods, moves towards the door. He grips the handle and moves it when he hears, "And Logan--- be gentle with him." The mutant sighs, two typically tense shoulders dropping as he turns to face Xavier, "Alright, Professor. You have my word."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be working on this in the interim while also working on my McShep fanfic, "Golden Flower Petals."  
> I hope you enjoy!  
> And let's be real, guys, Logan is so attracted to Bruce, it's not even funny.


	3. The Yelp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War and Peace.  
> Yelping and not yelping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got really dark so I added warnings in the tags.
> 
> I hadn't expected Bruce to angst so much.
> 
> Enjoy!

He has twelve button ups, eight pairs of slacks, four ties, three lab coats, two pairs of shoes, and more sweaters and jackets and jeans and sets of pajamas than he had ever imagined. Bruce gives a hum and hangs up each and every single article of clothing--- he's used to it being barer, but Charles had been generous:

"Bruce, you'll be teaching at my school for the gifted. You will need more than three shirts and pants."

Bruce had wanted to tell him that no, he never took handouts, but as usual, the telepath had cheated.

"I won't take no for an answer. Accept this. I'll have Ororo help you pick out clothes."

And so, Bruce and Storm had spent the latter half of his first afternoon at Xavier's buying clothes and shoes. The Illinois native never had anything more than a very... humble... existence, and with the Hulk's destruction of his favorite shirts, it grew harder and harder to keep professional wear for too long. Come to think of it, Bruce had lived his life like some science-centered Jekyll-and-Hide celibate monk.

Then again, when one had the Hulk like an eternal wet blanket... well. The green guy made sex hard. Especially when one's heart rate was one's worst enemy. He had more control over it than he used to, but in the grand scheme of things, he knew that he had little control over the Hulk.

He shuffles across the floor, fishing for a Sudoku book out of his messenger bag. Banner takes a seat at the desk provided in the room, his form hunched over in the same position he's used to from years of scouring over lab results. He uncaps a pen and teethes it before he starts working on the puzzles--- he's a genius. He can afford not to use a pencil.

Bruce works through ten of the difficult ones and then he's bored as soon as he checks them and sees they're all correct. He thinks about pulling out his laptop and watching some shows on Netflix, but the idea doesn’t pan out, seeing as he smells a little gnarly. Banner pulls the collar of his green shirt and brings it to his nose: yeah, no. Shower. He needs a shower.  
Scooting back his chair and moving to stand, the scientist pads over and looks in the mirror to double-check and be sure that he won’t waste water. Hm. There was a time where his eyes were just brown, not hazel, and the fact he has so many crow’s feet makes him realize how old he really is. Bruce is forever hanging somewhere between thirty and forty, and he knows this. The Hulk will keep him at his peak as long as he Hulks out consistently, and even then, his cells don’t get damaged passed a certain point. It’s practical godhood, and Bruce can’t help but feel someone else would better be left with eternity. 

Lord knows he doesn’t want to be here: the guilt of the Hulk and what he’s done crushes him daily. He only functions because he has to, because the Hulk would stop him if he tried again… and yet, Bruce doesn’t mind choking on lead for a few moments even if it would come at the expense of retching it up as his green behemoth of an alter ego. It comforts him in the weirdest of ways, and though it’s disturbing, Bruce has to survive somehow. Even if he’s missing pieces.

He pokes and prods at his hair, but then he’s turning, searching for the fluffiest towel he can find. Banner finds it on the top of the wardrobe. He pulls it down, strips his clothes off, and heads for the bathroom that’s in his room.

A moment of darkness is forgotten at the promise of a shower.

He crosses over to inspect the cleaning necessities. The shampoo and conditioner both smell pretty fruity, but Bruce doesn’t care: they’ll clean him just as well. There’s been plenty of times where he’s been on the run and all he had was water. 

Ooh, the body wash smells like vanilla. Bruce loves the smell of vanilla. 

He slips into the shower after laying his towel on the counter and gives one of the knobs a turn: when the hot water comes pouring down, he maneuvers to avoid it and yelps as it touches his skin.  


* * *

Logan looks up from the book he’s been reading. He won’t ever tell a soul how much he enjoys the complex arguments in War and Peace, nor will he tell them how easily he can recall every last detail of everything he’s read in the last two hours. He can say every single sentence of the book, word for word, from the start.

The mutant shifts from his position of laying on his stomach and supporting himself by his elbows to lay onto his back.

What was that yelp? 

Hm. It’s not his senses playing tricks on him, right? Then again, Logan’s senses are really developed--- they’re sharp as anything, and the fact his memory plays into it makes it hard for him to focus on anything for too long…. 

And yet, that yelp was such a distressed sound. No one’s hurt, right? Not that he’d care too much. 

Still, Logan places his book back into his drawer and slides out into the hallway with the agility of a panther. 

Odd. All the other professors seem to be busy. There’s only one room besides his own that has light flooding in from the bottom. Ah, Bruce’s. So that little nerd yelped.

Hm.

Logan almost wants to knock, but he instead decides against it and shifts back to his room. The dork needs his privacy.

Besides, it’s not often he’s allowed in this place to have a moment to himself. Usually Bobby or Rogue is having a fit about their powers, or one of the pyro kinetic mutants has found out about their abilities and Logan has to be there to keep the kids in line. 

He shuts the door in his usual loud manner and then he’s crossing over to his bed in long strides. He snatches up the book after snatching up a beer--- hm. He has to admit it: he admires Natasha’s perseverance. Reminds him of his own resilience. 

Logan dives back into the story headfirst, all yelps forgotten and beer in hand.

What a good way to end the night.

He knows he won’t sleep. He hardly ever sleeps anymore, but he knows he can still lay here and read to his heart's content until someone knocks on the door.


	4. To Teach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a morning chess game and spying eyes during Bruce's first class.

The next day is probably the strangest day of Bruce Banner’s Hulk-extended life. He wakes at 10 am. Apparently, his class doesn’t start till’ noon, but Xavier wants to play him in chess and interview him on his experiences so far until he has to teach. It’s not a bad thing to be interviewed by the telepath, but at times, it can be unsettling. A lie is picked up almost immediately, especially when one has given Charles permission for him to peek inside their head.  
  
Bruce is doing one of his classic moves, castling, when Xavier brings up the fact that he looks well rested.  
  
“You’d be surprised what a night spent in a single prolonged location can do for you,” Banner shoots back, watching as Charles counteracts his movement with a bishop.  
  
Bruce knows he’s going to lose, but it doesn’t bother him. It would have in his earlier years--- or that’s what he tells himself--- but those years have since long been remembered.  
  
“You are safe here. I hope you know that,” Charles murmurs, and then Bruce is pausing in his movements.  
  
The black queen hangs suspended above the board as Banner bites his lip. He shifts the queen over to put Xavier in check.  
  
Charles’ eyes smile in response to that: he’s seen Bruce’s strategy and has known it for six months. He knows the man does his best to prolong events such as these, no matter what obstacle he might face.  
  
If Bruce Banner had more ambition, he'd be lethal--- Charles knows this and has planned accordingly. There were some people Xavier was glad to have on his side, and the mild-mannered scientist far outweighed the damage he caused when he transforms.  
  
"I know," Bruce murmurs a moment afterwards, Xavier having regained control of the board.  
  
"And yet, why do you frown, Robert?"  
  
Bruce, at hearing the first name he rarely uses, stiffens. He's given permission to certain people to use it, but it's just---  
  
"I don't know, Charles. Hank and Storm like me being here, but I don't think Logan does."  
  
Charles tilts his head, smiling, watching as Bruce counters his control with a well placed bishop.  
  
"And how do you know that?"  
  
Bruce's shoulders sag--- he turns in on himself, lips pulling into a deep, thin line, "You can call it a gift."  
  
Xavier moves a pawn to overshadow the bishop. Bruce sighs.  
  
"You're a gifted individual, Bruce, but you carry the burden of self hatred and doubt. This fuels the monster deep inside of you---"  
  
Banner flinches; Charles reaches across his desk to grip the other's hand.  
  
"Logan is Logan. He hardly likes anyone. But give him time. He doesn't particularly like scientists."  
  
Bruce's brow raises, "Why's that?"  
  
Xavier shakes his head, "To tell you would be to cross the boundaries of privacy. I would not tell him of your history as much as I would not tell you of his."  
  
Banner leans back in his chair. Nods.  
  
"Alright. Okay. Fine. Oh, and professor--- checkmate."  
  
Xavier looks down at the board before staring back at Banner.  
  
He's correct. It is a checkmate.  
  
"Damn," he curses under his breath as Bruce smirks.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
The scientist winks, steps up from his chair, bids the other a good afternoon, and heads for his classroom.  
  
0-0-0-0-0-0  
  
The science classroom's a huge space and it reeks of Hank's experiments. Not that Bruce could complain about the condition of it! He had managed labs that had smelled worse than this, and at least Hank was apologetic.  
  
He sets up his briefcase on the desk, two hazel eyes staring down at the contents.  
  
Banner sucks in a breath and shivers; it has been two years since he's been in a place for so long.  
  
Today, of course, is only the introductory class to what he'll be teaching. Xavier expressively told him to teach whatever content he so wished in the course, and Charles had slapped the label of "General Science" onto the class.  
  
In reality, Bruce's going to tailor the class to whatever mutations people in the class have. That's what they'll study. That's what he decided.  
  
Ten students filter in. Some he knows. Others he doesn't.  
  
Jubilee steps up to shake his hand vigorously, and when the scientist pulls back after the handshake, he's redder than a sun ripened tomato.  
  
A few of the students ask him questions about where he's come from and what he can do. He's hesitant at first, but he figures they've went through similar experience with their mutations, so he slides into it easy.  
  
"I turn into the Hulk," he murmurs, sitting on the edge of the table in the front of the room.  
  
At the few puzzled faces, Bruce turns on the projector. Logs into the computer.  
  
He pulls up the Internet quickly and heads over to youtube.  
  
When he types in "Hulk footage", he cringes but puts it up anyway.  
  
On the screen and to everyone's utter shock, the Hulk rips through tanks like they're nothing and he roars like a beast.  
  
He awkwardly touches the back of his neck when he sees their fear, but he doesn't comment on it.  
  
"But it's not really a mutation that you guys have. It's not the X gene. My mutation comes from the fact my father experimented on himself, and thus, on me. I have dissociative identity disorder, and when I saved this kid Rick Jones from a gamma bomb testing, I was caught in the blast. Rick was okay, but... I turned into the Hulk when I got angry, when I got too excited."  
  
Bruce pulls at his collar. He feels eyes on him from the hallway, and he can't help but feel unnerved when he sees it's Logan.  
  
Banner looks back at the students as he speaks again, intentionally ignoring the other in the hallway.  
  
"The government's been after me a few times because the Hulk is a mindless beast. He kills people. It's kinda like we're Jekyll and Hyde, you know? I'm a world renowned scientist---well, I was--- but only so much can make amends when the one half of you that is more popular with the world destroys so much."  
  
The class is quiet after that, a slight air of pity wafting around the students. Jubilee almost wants to stand up and say something, but she doesn't say a word. She just sits there.  
  
Bruce looks back in the hallway. Hm. Logan's gone.  
  
Or so he thinks.  
  
Logan presses up against the wall outside of the class, a slight smirk on his lips. There's something about the scientist and how he looks when he gives his monologues. Bruce reminds him of an incredibly pouty Bambi ready for the slaughter--- and something deep inside of him screams to be the hunter that's going to be knees deep in deer flesh.  
  
And there's something about him, too, that calls not to the animal in Logan... but to a part the Howlett boy had thought he had lost, so long ago.  
  
Gnarled memories assault Logan's brain, and he's left shaking for a few minutes. Thank the god he doesn't believe in that no one had seen that, or else Logan might have had the damn audacity to be embarrassed.  
  
He listens in on Bruce's class again, but the little nerd is on to introducing the class to Newton's Laws. The class is finally responding to him.  
  
"The Fundamental Scientific Truths one must always know," Bruce says, and Logan leans against the wall for one other second before he thinks about having a nice cold beer.  
  
Hm.  
  
He'll bother the dork another time. Besides... their first lesson together is tonight.  
  
The excitement he feels shouldn't even be there.  
  
Come on, it's just a twerpy little nerd who will be out of the mansion in less than half a year. And yet... why did Logan hope... deep down... that Bruce would be sticking around?  
  



	5. To Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first lesson of handling the Hulk.

When Bruce had came into the room in that light way he always did--- like he played minesweeper constantly with his feet, Logan had smirked. They had both taken seats across from each other, and they were focusing on breath exercises.  
  
Bruce sucks in a deep breath, but he's whining--- his lips pull into a frown as he complains, "I know breathing. I learned breathing in Brazil. I want to master the Hulk. I've already mastered breath."  
  
Logan sighs at him. Two blue eyes open and they rake over Bruce's form; damn nerd had worn a black X-Mansion tee and sweatpants. Where were his shoes? Not that Logan really cared, anyway...  
  
"You have, have ya?" Logan pipes up, one hand coming out to push Bruce over.  
  
Bruce gives a startled sound before he topples down, and then he gets up with a start. His heart rate monitor goes out of control, and he starts shaking. He can feel the Hulk right below the surface...  
  
The transformations had been worse. They had been coming easier.  
  
"If ya had mastered breath, pretty boy," Logan murmurs, leaning closer to him--- "You wouldn't have almost had to fight Big Greenbean."  
  
Bruce hums. Looks pensive. Stares at the floor for a moment. Shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. He flushes at the fact the other had called him pretty boy--- yeah, like Logan was _like_ him; it was probably Logan's fragile masculinity that made him make such comments--- and he tries to focus on breathing.  
  
It comes easier than before. Good.  
  
"Your methods are dangerous," he comments a second later, much to Logan's amusement.  
  
"Gets the job done. Who cares if it's dangerous? I could a handled you."  
  
"Yeah, you could have handled me, but if another person startles me like that, they're not gonna be so lucky."  
  
"Which is why, Doctor Banner, I have to break the habit for you right now. You control your damn breath, you control your responses to situations. Are we clear?"  
  
Bruce gives a nod, trying to ignore the sudden ripple that had ripped through him---why did he _like_ the other's authoritative tone? And was he trying to lower his voice in _that_ way?  
  
Logan smirks, moving to push Bruce over again. Bruce catches his wrist, however, and so for a few good moments, Banner's hazel eyes meet Logan's blue ones. 

The Canadian's breath catches.  
  
His hand is so gentle around Logan's wrist, and something inside the mutant cries out. Something screams.  
  
"Can't scare me the same way twice," Bruce says, leaning in, a slight smile toying on his lips.  
  
Logan almost wants to lean forward enough to snag a kiss, but he shows restraint. Why in the fuck was he damn well thinking of this shit? Oh, when was the last time he had had a good shag? A while. It's probably just sex that he's after. Wouldn't surprise him.  
  
"Hm. I'll have to keep you on your toes," he comments with a look, ripping his hand free of the other's gentle hold.  
  
Bruce gives a smile, laughing pleasantly in return--- and god, it's one of those smiles that makes Logan's insides ache. If Logan could equate that smile to something, he'd be stuck equating it to a Gatsby smile from his F. Scott Fitzgerald book phase: it was a smile that held a good amount of kindness and understanding. It was then that Logan knew Bruce was going to know him more intimately and different than anyone that had ever known him before.   
  
And the way his head tilted down when he smiled, too. It makes Logan feel like not many individuals have ever been imparted with such a gift as a smile from the gentle doctor...

He hates it.  
  
"I think you already do a fine job of that."  
  
Logan laughs at that bitterly, shuts his eyes because the banter makes his memories catch fire, and says after a moment of composure, "You have homework. Don't forget to breathe. Control your breath--"  
  
"Control my response," Bruce echoes, two hazel eyes staring intensely at the other.

Logan wants to reel away, and yet, he loves the pleasurable tingles that ripple up and down his skin that come from his gaze.  
  
"Good. Now get outta my room, I have papers to damn well grade."  
  
Grade? Ha. Logan's just going to give every single one an A and be done with it. He hates homework and doesn't see why Xavier makes him give it.

Something in the scientist changes; he's more reserved. Quiet. Logan finds he doesn't want that, but he can't stop now.  
  
Bruce steps up and pads over to the door, pausing before he slips out into the hallway, "I'll talk to you later, I suppose. Thank you for helping me."  
  
Logan doesn't say a word. He just offers a grunt as the nerd walks out.  
  
Blue orbs roll over to stare at his ass while he leaves, and Logan can't believe himself when he starts smirking.  
  
Bruce slips into his room across the hall and turns---catching the other's gaze on him before he shuts the door. The scientist shivers and doesn't stop, even as he strips down and climbs in bed to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update; my college has been stealing away most of my time. I hope to get onto writing more of this.


	6. To Laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce grows closer to a few members of the X-Men.

He wakes up early at 6am with a start. He can't quite head back to sleep when he's dreaming of Betty Ross dying in his arms.

She had been so beautiful with her brown hair wrapped in a bun, with her easy smile and bright, twinkling blue eyes. He had fallen in love with her for her wit, but damn, he was lucky she was just as beautiful as the person that lived beneath her dermis.

It had been his fault, though, and so, when he sleeps, he gets tormented by the plain image of her, arms outstretched… a single bar of steel thrown right through her.

The Hulk.

Maybe he was to blame, most of all.  
  
Bruce puts on some tennis shoes, a tank top, and some running shorts. He won't run--- he'll spend time investigating the grounds, instead, but it’s always nice to be comfortable. Especially when exploring unfamiliar places.

If Banner had a quarter for every time he wished for comfort, he would be _quite_ the millionaire.

He takes some time just walking from one side of the main courtyard to the other.  
  
Bruce has found that the rolling hills of X-Mansion are quite fun to traverse, and there's never a dull moment. Especially when Hank McCoy comes bounding near him. They fall into a gentle run by each other ( Bruce from peer pressure, and Hank from being excitable ).  
  
"Good morning, Robert," he says, spying down at his watch. Instead of his usual tank, Beast has preferred to be shirtless for this run, and so, Bruce is stuck awkwardly staring at him for a minute.  
  
"... Do you _really_ run like that?" Banner asks, trying to jog lightly--- his heart rate is going up a little blip but it could still be Hulk-inducing levels.  
  
"Yes," Hank replies, "I sometimes run so fast my clothes rip. There is nothing worse than being stuck in the courtyard half-naked."  
  
Bruce grins. He falters his step just a little. He stops running for a second to catch his breath, "Believe me, I know how that feels."

Moments pass and then McCoy fishes out a water bottle from God knows where. He throws it to Bruce.  
  
The scientist catches it gently in his finger tips before taking a swig. Either he’s too quiet, or Hank is superb at reading him.  
  
"I know that look," Hank says, one brow raising, "what's on your mind?"  
  
"So," he starts, tapping the edge of the cool plastic, "What do you know about Logan? I caught him staring at me last night. It was kinda unnerving."  
  
One blue brow rises to the sky. Hank starts to grin, sharp white fangs contrasting with the blues of his lips.  
  
"Logan was staring at you? Interesting. Perhaps he has taken an interest in you. There's not many people that make him intrigued in this world, and he often struggles for meaning."  
  
Bruce starts to blink profusely, confusion running rampant over his features.  
  
"Really? What could I do that causes... him to feel that way?"  
  
Hank shrugs.  
  
"Or maybe he just likes you. He picks his friends wisely. Hm. He could be curious, too. There's not that many people who would give into a life full of misery and doubt to save a teenager like you did---"  
  
Flushed cheeks turn a more red. Bruce coughs and places his hands on Beast's shoulder.  
  
"Can we talk about something else?"  
  
A voice breaks into the conversation, and then Storm is winking at Bruce, “You're a good guy, Bruce."  
  
Visibly uncomfortable, he bites out, "A party, huh?"  
  
Storm offers a genuine smile, "Instead of blaming everyone else for your issues, you blame yourself and try to work around it. That is strength."  
  
She turns Banner around and the poor man is left grasping at no one and everything, two hazel eyes staring right up at her. In those orbs of mixing green and brown, there’s this disbelief that pervades every single inch of his form. It echoes in how the green tries to take over the brown, in how his gaze looks eternally haunted.

Ororo gets chills from looking at him, but she’s stubborn.  
  
" _Believe us_."  
  
Bruce's blush only deepens. He looks away.  
  
"I'll... try."  
  
Storm, seemingly happy with his response, pulls back and looks at the blue sky.  
  
"Boys," she whispers, eyes flashing white, "It's gonna rain."  
  
A beat.

 _Damn her._  
  
Bruce and Beast share one look and then they're racing to get out of the storm she's creating. The grass shreds so quick under Hank’s feet that it makes dirt tracks. Bruce trips and only regains his footing when McCoy grabs him to help him up.  
  
Bruce can't even believe that he's not hulking out.  
  
"You're such a cheater, Ororo!" They both yell, but Storm is laughing so hard she can barely speak.

 

_Charming. Almost like a family._

_Well, the X-Men have been his family, haven’t they?  Would another be just as needed?_  
  
Logan looks on from one of the windows: arms crossed over a bare chest and mouth set hard. His face is a marred expression of longing, sorrow, and annoyance that reflects like chaos in his blue eyes. Just like his brain, he's always been far more complex than he lets on, and playing the fool is better than having someone know all of your cards.  
  
Below him, Bruce and Beast have already gotten soaked from head to toe. But they're laughing. He's sure it's a nice sound.  
  
If there's one thing he can do, though, it's remember. His memory is constantly working overtime, sucking up all sorts of stimuli and cataloging it into the recesses of his war-torn brain.  
  
So he often picks what to remember unconsciously.  
  
Now, it's Bruce.  
  
He focuses on the shape of his smile. It's a good one, and the world isn't worthy of it.  
  
He wonders if he might ever be, or if Bruce would ever trust him in a way where he would smile like that forever. One smile could chase away five bad memories.  
  
The two friends in the courtyard clasp right before they get out of view, with Storm following a second after. He can practically hear the scolding the Professor is going to give all of them. He’ll wanna be there for that.  
  
Banner slips inside. Logan turns from the window to get changed for class.  
  
Teaching combat will get his brain off of his small attachment to that dumb, self-sacrificial scientist.  
  
_Or so he prays._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had the time to devote to this--- so have this hastily edited chapter as recompense!
> 
> ( That, and my friend stopped writing Logan for me. So I'm sad. )


	7. Puzzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback leads to a puzzling moment.

Logan's hand holds the banister of the main staircase in the X Mansion, and for a single moment, he's transported back to when he had been a child. He can see Victor, in all of his grizzled annoyance, standing along the wall, his ugly excuse for a father and the family groundskeeper right by his side.

And then James's seeing his own father and mother in the expansive living room of his old house. The year is 1845.

The property is laden with the finer things, but John Howlett was not one to step on people for riches. A philanthropist through and through, he'd given money when he could. The man only had a good heart.

"Thomas," John says, "your immoral behavior has made it to where I need to let you go."

The sickly boy on the stairs shivers; he's cold, and he can feel the heat of an altercation. He's terrified, but he won't let that slip out of his mouth.

Damp, cool sweat runs down his forehead.

James reaches the bottom step.

"No, ye won't, John." The groundskeeper is adamant and cruel, angry as all hell.

"And why is that?"

John stands straighter than before, and the boy who would become Wolverine commits the image to memory. Dark, wavy brown hair that is chopped short frames his father's face and intense brown eyes give him so much life. John wears silk pajamas and a robe, but his feet are bare: something that James would always do, even on long walks.

"Because, I'll kill ya."

The admission has the entire group gathered except for Victor and Thomas gasping.

"Try me, John. I've hated yer guts for the longest time."

John frowns, crosses his arms in front of him, and then stomps his foot.

"Leave, Thomas. This instance. And leave your son. The good Father knows you abuse the poor lad."

Thomas fakes like he's leaving, but then he's racing back, a pistol that had been hidden in the back of his pants withdrawn and out for all to see.

"No, I ain't gonna do that."

And the next thing Thomas does opens up the sickly child to the mutation within. It's the moment James becomes Wolverine, the moment he becomes a man.

There's a loud crack and a puff of smoke. John gives a gross sound as the air leaves his lungs, as the ball hits him square in the stomach. Blood bubbles his lips.

The sight will never leave the child.

The light leaves those strong and caring brown eyes.

From somewhere deep inside of him, James screams and leaps forward, bone claws slipping out between his knuckles. It hurts but he's not focused on the pain.

He's going off total instinct.

Bone meets flesh in a fury of jabs, and then the groundskeeper that had just committed murder is murdered, in turn.

"He was a good man!" the child snarls, blood staining his face and arms. The crisp white nightgown is drenched in blood. James is the lion cub that finally has had a first kill.

"Don't worry, kid. You're my son. And you'll be just like me. Bad. John was good, but you'll never... be," Thomas Logan says, breathing his final breath and laying dead. Elizabeth starts to shake in loud sobs.

The scene leaves Logan as quick as it comes, and then he's blinking rapidly. The present. He's back in the same damn place he calls a home.

He breathes deeply to help ground himself, and the scent of pine tickles his nostrils. The mutant taps his finger nails against the wood. The sound drowns out anything else.

"Miss Ororo," comes the very crisp British accent of the professor from down the hall, "did I hear from Rogue that you produced a storm in the back yard?"

"You would be correct, Professor," says Storm, her voice giving her motivations away: she's not guilty for it. Logan can practically see her sass-filled head nod, how her wisps of white hair bounce with the motion.

"You must set an example for the rest of the students," he begins on which Logan will know as a long rant. Though fun to listen to, the Canadian blocks them out. He has other things on his mind.

Like that damn smile. He can't believe how Bruce's lips turned up, how much his eyes lit up like stars. How can he get the images out of his head? Seriously.

Logan meanders down the stairs and reaches the bottom of the landing. A few students aimlessly walk passed, nodding and waving to their disgruntled professor.

"Mornin'," he says, and that's all he'll ever say in the mornings. Everyone in the Mansion knows that Logan is a man of little words. He's more focused on action, but the words he does say have incredible meaning. Even if they are, "Fuck off."

More bodies rush passed.

They're hurrying off to class while he's focused on getting something to eat.

Howlett turns the corner, two golden irises focused on the curve of the floor tile. Only a few more doors, and he'll be there. Hopefully alone.

When he reaches it, however, Logan gives the loudest sigh, tearing the other occupant's attention away from a sudoku puzzle. He takes note that the damn scientist he's getting fond of is using a pen for it.

And, fuck. He's wearing a graphic tee today with pajama pants. His hair doesn't even look brushed. He has a five o'clock shadow, and his eyes look exhausted.

Bruce's lips turn into the most pleasant frown, but then Logan's sighing, again, this time because there's a feeling of remorse in his chest.

"Hello," Banner offers, but all he receives in turn is a grunt. He stares, blinking rapidly. Who knew people could communicate only in grunts?

Howlett staggers over to the fridge, pulls out a beer, and then sits down across from the man.

Bruce goes back to working on his Sudoku. It doesn't last long, however, as he's taken notice of the beer.

"Nice breakfast," he says, snarkily, one hand moving to snatch up his buttered bagel. The crunch of it doesn't even send Logan's nerves on fire. Certain sensory things did, but, look at that.

"Thanks. My father showed me how to eat," the mutant says in return, his tone acidic.

Banner places the pen on the table, eyes moving from his puzzle to Logan.

Something changes.

For a split second, he can see the lime green ripple in those hazel orbs... and he has to shift because he can feel the arousal stirring in his pants.

The mutant crosses his arms over his chest.

"Y'know, my father did, too. But we can choose."

A brown brow quirks. Logan has the gall to grin a shit-eating grin.

"We can choose, but that don't mean we have good choices to pick from."

Banner hums, hand reaching out for his tea. It's so dainty, so natural that James laughs.

Right as Bruce is trying to form an argument, Logan stands up, salutes, and says, "See ya around, Brucie."

He can practically smell how irritated the scientist gets with the comment. It's addictive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. I just wanted to let y'all know I'm focusing on this project as a way to de-stress. I may be going into EMT training soon. Wish me luck. Have some fluff!


End file.
